Vikings Don't Cry
by animalsarepeopletoo
Summary: "I'll be back... Probably." Hiccup has heard these words before. Most times they are spoken by his father. He shouldn't take much mind to them. But this time, it's different. "Please, Daddy..." "Vikings, don't cry." And so that's what Hiccup tells himself. Every trying time, he recites those words to himself, trying to find strength within... until he can't. Cover by katurdi.


**Welp, t** **his angsty piece of work is just meant to get my creative juices flowing... stupid writer's block.**

* * *

 **Vikings Don't Cry**

* * *

Hiccup and Stoick are standing by the door. It is late evening, just before nighttime. Hiccup should be asleep by now, but the dragon raid is keeping him awake. He's a little scared, and wants his father to stay with him. But Stoick is trying to make his way over to the door.

The chief then turns around and stares down at his toddler son, almost as an afterthought.

He says, a little distantly, "I'll be back... probably."

Hiccup has heard these words before. Many times. Most times they are spoken by his father. He shouldn't take much mind to them. But this time, it's different. He has a bad feeling. One that he can't shake off.

"Please don't go," he begs, pulling on Stoick's arm. Deep in his two year-old mind, he's worried. He's worried that his father won't come back from the dragon raid. That he'll be alone. All alone. Completely alone. Even a few brief encounters with his father are better than none at all.

But Stoick shrugs him off. It takes no effort at all, as Hiccup is a tiny thing and cannot fight back. "Stay inside. You know the routine."

Hiccup struggles as Stoick sets him on the seat of an armchair. " _Please_ , Daddy..." And he starts to cry. Big fat tears that he never meant to let go, but his horrible, writhing feeling is making him feel sick and he's not quite sure what to do.

Stoick puts a hand on Hiccup's shoulder. It rests heavily there. "Vikings... don't cry."

A sniff.

"Hiccup-"

There is a sudden explosion from outside. Stoick sighs and removes his palm. "I have to go. Stay here, and keep out of trouble." A moment later, he's gone, and Hiccup is left alone on the armchair. He would get off, but he's a little too small to successfully jump and would just end up hurting himself in the end.

His shoulder is burning with regret, but he rubs his eyes... and he tries to be strong. For he is a Viking. And Vikings don't cry.

Hiccup is two.

* * *

Seven year-old Hiccup has taken refuge in his room once again. He needs to have a little assurance that he's in control of something. So he fiddles with old designs and drawings he's scribbled down and tries to figure out what to do with them.

The other kids said something mean today. They told him he was useless and weak and would never amount to anything. Well, not everyone. Just his cousin, Snotlout. But those Thorston twins' faces were sneering, and Astrid's ignorant glare was hurtful to him. Fishlegs only looked nervous, as he always seems to appear.

Hiccup's mind replays the scene over and over again until he suddenly stops his work and just stares down at the table. But he's not seeing the mess of paper and metal he usually does. He's seeing Snotlout's smirk. Ruff and Tuff's gleaming eyes. Astrid looks so irritated with him- " _Just stay out of our way_."- that Hiccup buries his face in his knobbly knees and stifles a sob.

But even though it is five years later, he remembers... _Vikings don't cry._

So he presses on. He doesn't even complain when supper time rolls around, and Stoick has made mutton stew for the fourth time in a row. His father has other things on his mind... other things more important than Hiccup.

* * *

Hiccup is _outside_.

There is a dragon attack- for the third time this week. The chief is getting very concerned at this progression. Hiccup hasn't seen him since yesterday afternoon, and a growl from his belly reminds him that's the last time he had a decent meal.

Hiccup stumbles by a group of Vikings who are taking down a dragon with a net. This one is actually sort of pretty, all blue but with touches of a soft yellow. The Deadly Nadder. It's a feisty devil, and it takes three Vikings to hold it down. The night is burning with death. destruction, and fire... but opportunity, to those who look for it.

"What are yeh doing ou' here?" someone says behind Hiccup. He turns to see Gobber, the blacksmith, standing a ways behind him. His eyes are a wide with surprise, but he mostly looks miffed. "Back teh the forge, go on now..."

Hiccup sighs as the blacksmith starts to drag him over to his workplace. Once again. He is Gobber's apprentice, and on nights like these, Berk needs all the help it can get from the forge.

"I just need one night," says Hiccup, glancing back at the Nadder in desperation. "One night to- to kill a dragon. People will stop calling me 'Useless', and Dad... he might even say he's proud of me once in awhile!"

Gobber seems a bit unfazed with Hiccup's plea. He ruffles his apprentice's hair as he shoves him back inside the forge. "Hiccup, yeh're barely ten years old. Yeh can't fight out there. It's kill, or be killed, and somethings tells me yeh're not ready fer that." He casts an eye over Hiccup, who tries to look buff.

"I _am_ ready," Hiccup declares, picking up a nearby sword laying on a table. He drops it under the sudden weight, then clambers to pick it up.

Gobber shakes his head. "No," he says sadly, "yeh're not." And he leaves Hiccup plopped down on the floor with the sword in his hands. He's feeling like he's just taken a hard blow to the chest, and his breath is erratic. Sure, the other kids might say what the blacksmith just had... but... but not Gobber. Was he really _this_ hopeless? Was he really... useless?

His eyes sting with injustice, and he bites his quivering lips. No. Of course he's ready. He can kill. He can fight. Gobber is wrong.

He manages to swing the sword back up on the table, panting at the exertion it takes. His eyes are still burning a little, and he's ashamed of this.

Suddenly, Stoick's hand is clamping his shoulder again.

" _Vikings don't cry_."

Hiccup carefully strokes the sword.

* * *

It is Hiccup's worst nightmare. Everything has been going so well until... until... until _now_.

Stoick stands before him, chest heaving in rage and disbelief. His face is a mask of bitterness that Hiccup has never endured before. His father has always saved those looks for the enemy. Is that what Hiccup is? The enemy? It is, in its own twisted way, true...

But, no. Oh no. Stoick's face is changing to a more thoughtful expression one might see on a warrior who has just discovered a new battle plan. One that would out work nicely. Hiccup realizes this all too late. He now knows that Stoick's going to use Toothless to find the Dragon's Nest. He's just spilled out pretty much everything to Stoick, after all, and that would be the smart thing to do.

Hiccup tries to change his father's mind. He can't bare it if Toothless is taken away from him. Because this dragon is his best friend. He is the first one that understood and accepted Hiccup for who he is. And he didn't even mind it... not ever. Oh, Hiccup can't see Toothless killed, or hurt, or used as some sort of slave. He just can't. And it's all his fault…

" _Dad_. It's not what you think... you don't know what you're up against." He's begging, and he's begging hard. But he doesn't care. Toothless cannot be hurt. He continues with the same desperation. "It's like nothing you've ever seen-"

Hiccup grabs Stoick's arm, tugging with all his might. He has no effect whatsoever, and he realizes this with growing horror.

"Dad. _Please_. I promise you that you can't win this one."

Nothing. Stoick is walking away, his mind made up and closed to his son because of his clouds of anger. Hiccup feels awful, and he stumbles to his feet, running after his father. "No... Dad... no. For once in your life-" he grabs Stoick again "-would you please just _listen to me_ -?!"

Stoick throws Hiccup off of his arm, swatting him to the floor. There is an icy sort of stillness. Hiccup stares up, stunned. Because Stoick has never ever hit him before. Not when Hiccup accidentally blew up the supply house, or knocked over a vital bin of fish, or even when he snuck out during that fateful dragon raid. This… this is scaring Hiccup. No. _Terrifying_ him.

When Stoick speaks, it is a low growl of barely contained rage.

"You've thrown your lot in with them." He shakes his head, as if trying to clear away his past hopes for Hiccup. "You're not a Viking."

Stoick's next words are dripping with years of disappointment, but bitter decision.

"You're not my son."

And, oh... Hiccup hurts so much. He's hurting in a way he's never felt before. Inside, he's screaming himself hoarse with pain. Outside, he's panting in horror. He doesn't hear when Stoick leaves. He doesn't feel the sunlight fall off of him with Stoick tries to slam the door shut, but it doesn't quite close the entire way. No. He's numb all the way. He's never felt this alone. This scared. This hopeless. Because Hiccup Haddock has always had a plan... but now… now he doesn't.

He doesn't know what to do.

Feeling comes back to him, and he's acutely aware of tears biting the edges of his eyes. He fights them off, retaliating with that one thought he's always replied with:

Vikings don't cry.

And then he remembers. He's not a Viking. His father- no, just Stoick now- said so. He's not a Viking...

He still doesn't cry.

Though he is not a Viking, he has to find his own sort of toughness. For Toothless. For Astrid. For Berk. For... himself. He must press on and stay true to himself. Ignore those petty insults and even his own disowning. Be the better person.

Oh, gods. If only he knew how to do all of that.

But... he knows he's going to at least try. And that's better than doing nothing- isn't it?

* * *

The boats are burning. The archers are turning away. A large bump stubbornly rests in Hiccup's throat, unmoving and painful. He doesn't speak.

 _Dad._

Stoick the Vast had just been killed. Killed by someone no one would ever think would do it. Toothless, the dragon of the chief's own son.

Hiccup remembers this. He remembers Toothless advancing, his mouth a gaping blue and purple. His eyes are narrowed slits like they are when he's so angry or scared, he doesn't think. Except he's not mad. He's being controlled. And he is jeopardizing Hiccup's life.

Hiccup backs away against the ice, a litany of prayers dripping from his mind. No. _No._

He's going to be killed.

But, no- at the last second, Hiccup sees Stoick charging into him, his mind only seeing his son in danger. He has to get there. Because he won't lose Hiccup. Not again.

And he doesn't.

He loses himself instead.

" _No… no!_ "

Hiccup tears himself away from this memory, unable to continue on of what happened. He's truly in danger of crying now, and it doesn't help when he hears his father's voice resonating inside of his mind.

 _Vikings don't cry._

Hiccup is not sure what he is anymore. He is a Viking, a Hooligan, the Dragon Conqueror, a Dragon Rider, the Friend of Dragons, Stoick's son... what does that all add up to?

He hears it again.

 _Vikings don't cry._

But Hiccup can't help himself. Tears splash down from his lashes and slip down his face. He looks down, still in denial of these events. Because he just can't believe that his father is gone. Gone forever, until Hiccup meets him in Valhalla. However, Hiccup is young, and this will take awhile. And Hiccup wants to see Stoick now. _Right now_. He doesn't even care how childish that thought makes him seem. All he can think of is how hollow he feels.

 _Vikings don't cry._

The tears continue.

...and so must Hiccup.


End file.
